


No Punch-Backs

by englishable



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fix-it fic, Gen, Steve Is Not Here for Your Pseudo-Mystical Explanations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-17 09:38:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18962650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/englishable/pseuds/englishable
Summary: On second thought, maybe Steve doesn't feel like just returning the Soul Stone after all. He knows the rules, obviously, but he's never been much for following those.





	No Punch-Backs

…

He is so utterly appalled by the sight of Johann Schmidt, floating there like a wraith in the rasping-cold air of Vormir, that Steve does not hear his question the first time he asks it.

“I said,” Schmidt repeats, “do you suppose I am the keeper of a pawnbroker’s shop?”

Steve looks at the Soul Stone where it hovers suspended between them. It glows and pulses and reminds him of the arc-sodium carnival lights on Coney Island.

“What?” 

“The trade one makes for the stone is irrevocable,” Schmidt says, “irreversible until the end of days.” He slithers closer and points at Steve with a long, scythe-sharp finger. “That which has been sacrificed cannot be returned, Son of Sarah.”

Steve frowns.

He glances from Schmidt’s carceral red face to the stone once more and from the far-down root of his mind he seems to hear the voice of his mother, who had kept a St. Bridget’s cross of braided palm fronds nailed to their apartment wall and an iron horseshoe nailed above its front door.

Nothing sacrificed is lost, Sarah Rogers would advise, and don’t ever let yourself get drawn into bargaining with the fey on their own terms.

He also remembers, conveniently, that he is carrying a hammer made from the heart of a dying star in one hand and a suitcase with five other Infinity Stones still inside of it in his other.

He lifts his attention back to Schmidt.

“Bullshit.”

…

There is a spurt, a surge, then a bang between the rods of the time machine, and when Bruce uncovers his eyes against the brilliant white flash he finds Natasha standing there on the platform. Her braided hair drips water and she wrings it out.

“Well, that was weird.” She flings the braid back into place. “What’d I miss?”

...


End file.
